


Kingdom of Heaven

by Shaish



Series: Sharp Teeth and Bird Bones [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Gen, M/M, Mermaid Bucky Barnes, Mermaid Winter Soldier, Mermaids, WIP, mermaid Steve Rogers, mermaid bucky, might do oneshots instead, probably won't ever finish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-16
Updated: 2019-02-16
Packaged: 2019-10-29 11:19:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17807027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shaish/pseuds/Shaish
Summary: Scrapped Sharp Teeth and Bird Bones sequel





	Kingdom of Heaven

**Author's Note:**

> Alright sooooo I've been holding onto this for years now, and I don't think I'm going to finish it. I didn't end up liking where it was going and wasn't sure how to fix it because I DID like the first half of it. So instead of just holding onto it forever I thought I'd post it as is, since I liked some of it. Instead of doing a multichapter sequel I think I'd like to try some oneshots first. I've been having a hard time writing for a bit now and just haven't been active in the Steve/Bucky fandom in general, though I still love them. So to take the pressure off of myself I think I'll give that a go instead when the mood strikes me, that way the pressure doesn't just cripple me into getting nothing done.
> 
> Anyway, I hope some of this is at least enjoyable. I totally understand if parts aren't. It's hard to live up to the first one and I don't think a lot of this holds a candle to it at all, but I hope someone out there enjoys at least parts of it like I do.

Kingdom of Heaven

Water. 

Waves. The ocean. The sun filtering down in streams of light that ripple across the surface, fade like a mirage the deeper it penetrates until there’s no light at all, just incandescence and the soft-bright glow of eyes, of faint fluorescence illuminating the deep dark on scales that fade and near like a mirage of serpent tracks in the sand.

Steve’s gotten used to it over the past year, seeing Bucky dart in and out of view, move like a water snake and wind tight as a boa, has been slowly able to let _go_ of the anxiety of Bucky disappearing from his sight. Bucky’s had to show him how to use his new body, teach him, but Steve’s taken quickly to using his sharp teeth and claws, his improved vision and-

And the _weight_ of him, the length, but turned light in the water like he’s floating in zero gravity.

Bucky told him Steve’s an oddity, and Steve’s noticed it, too, with the few others they’ve run into, that his light, white-blue scales and bright blue eyes, like the sky, are an anomaly. But the fish seem to like him, hover curiously at the edges and _bop_ his scales gently with their puckered mouths, sometimes hover just above his outstretched fingers like birds of the deep. 

That might be one of his favorite parts, Steve thinks.

That, and…

\-------

“ _The council’s decision is fina_ -”

“Do I need to remind you what those two have done,” Fury cuts Councilwoman Hawley off, and her lips flatten slightly at the interruption, “They gave more than enough.”

“ _That doesn’t change the fact that our intelligence agency was destroyed from within by three parties_ ,” Councilman Rockwell replies, “ _Your division has already been punished_.” Fury’s fingers tighten. “ _And Hydra’s are still being eradicated. Those two, have not_.”

“You’re just nervous there’s a _whole_ different part of the world you’ve been living in for decades that you didn’t know about,” Fury cuts through the bull. Admittedly, that makes him nervous too, but he’s not saying that.

Councilman Rockwell straightens, mouth opening and lines increasing in the skin of his aged face with his anger-

“ _It’s true_ ,” Councilwoman Hawley cuts in, and Fury’s eye shifts back to her, “ _That we are nervous. That’s to be expected_ ,” she continues, “ _A whole race living in the ocean? Thought a myth for centuries? We need to know and understand our neighbors if we are to feel...at ease_.”

“‘Know and understand’,” Fury repeats, “Don’t you mean dissect and study?”

“ _We are not heathens_ ,” Councilman Singh answers, sitting tall in his own chair, “ _We would speak with them_.”

“ _We also need to know if they have militaristic capabilities_ ,” Councilman Rockwell adds. 

This is spinning out of control.

“ _We do need to speak with them_ ,” Councilman Yen says, “ _Is there a way?_ ”

They all look to him.

Fury looks right back, fingers starting to curl.

“ _One of yours has disappeared with one of theirs_ ,” Councilwoman Hawley says after a beat, “ _Make it happen. Dispatch a team. Begin Project Atlantis_.”

The holograms cut out and Fury’s shoulders slump, just slightly.

The whole point of ‘Atlantis’ was to find it and take all its treasure and secrets for personal gain.

He turns, heading around the divider wall for the elevator.

Seems humanity hasn’t learned. Not a damn thing.

-

“As bad as we thought?” Barton asks, crossing his arms next to Fury’s desk. Romanoff wanders along the length of windows like a panther, just as lithe and just as dangerous. Fury just takes a seat at his desk and Barton blows out a breath.

“We’re to put a team together to head Project Atlantis,” Fury says.

“You’ve gotta be kiddin’ me,” Barton lets out, turning more towards him, “They expect us to, what, just _scour the whole ocean?_ We don’t even have machines that can explore the whole _depth_. Not that I _wanna_ know what’s lurking down there,” he adds in a mutter. Romanoff comes to a stop a foot away from Barton near the corner of the desk. “It’s been _months_ ,” Barton adds, when the silence keeps on keeping on, “How are we even supposed to know where to look?” 

Fury steeples his fingers, then slowly laces them together and looks up at Romanoff. “Any ideas?” he asks.

“A few,” she replies quietly, “Do you want me to initiate phase one?” Fury inclines his head and Barton glances between the two of them.

“What’s phase one?”

\-------

Steve pushes fast through the water, using his hands to propel himself _faster_ , chasing Bucky around a rock and over and across a coral field, grinning when Bucky smirks back at him over his shoulder. The water streams past his teeth, down his throat, through his chest and back out. He throws a hand out when they circle another rocky mountain and _just_ manages to grip the end of Bucky’s tail-

Bucky _jerks_ and Steve holds on as they both tumble through the water, hitting sand and rolling up a cloud of it, manta rays darting out of the chaos like birds out of a hurricane. Steve laughs when they finally come to a stop, loud and melodic and drifting on the currents. Bucky joins in, harmony laced with harmony and Steve lets his fade, turning his head to watch him.

Bucky turns to look at him, too, smiling, slow and soft. He rolls to lay over him and Steve’s hands come up easy and familiar around his waist. Bucky lowers his head and their noses bump softly, brushing gently.

“Wish I could be…” Steve trails off quietly after a few minutes, and Bucky tilts his head slightly, quirking a brow. Steve grins, singing, “ _Part of your woooooorld-_ ” 

Bucky bats at him with his tail, cutting him off, and pushes up, taking off. Steve laughs, pushing himself up to follow.

\-------

“I can’t believe we’re doing this. Nat, this is ridiculous.”

She drops another weighted apple into the water and he watches it sink.

“You have a better idea, I’m all ears,” she replies, and Clint sighs, turning an apple over before letting it _plunk_ against and sink below the water’s surface.

“Echo location? Sonar?” he asks after a few moments.

“That’s phase two,” she replies calmly. He rests his elbow on the side of their little boat, chin in hand. “We need to put on a show until we can move.” Though, this still being about as dangerous goes without say. As far as they know, Bucky isn’t the _only_ one who likes shiny red apples. It wouldn’t be outside Clint’s realm of luck to run into another merman who’s not so inclined to _not_ bite his face off. “The team?” she asks.

Right. _Those_ guys. For all that they assigned the mission to Fury, they sure like keeping tabs on everything.

“Still chasing their tails,” he replies more seriously, dropping another apple and watching it fade into the deep, “Don’t know why we’re scouring the ocean, just that we are. Don’t know _why_ we’re dropping _apples_ into the ocean,” he adds a little more sarcastically, “Just that we are.” She nods in his periphery and he reaches over for a chip, taking a bite. Guess that means their little diversion here is working.

“We’ll begin phase two tomorrow night,” she says after a minute and he pauses, chip half raised to his mouth.

“So soon?” he whines, just a little. It’s not like they get a _lot_ of days off. 

Her lips curl up in return and he sighs, watching another apple sink below.

“Suck it up, Barton,” she replies, patting his shoulder patronizingly. He frowns and bites into his chip a bit moodily, crumbs littering the border of the boat.

\-------

Bucky slows and Steve easily catches up, slowing with him. 

“What is it?” he asks quietly. Bucky nods his chin forward and Steve follows his eyes.

He stills.

There’s a Great White Shark slowly heading in their direction, water and shadow slanting across its huge gray back while it moves through the ocean. Before Steve can do anything, Bucky’s looking at him and then swimming off, Steve reaching out with a, “ _Wait!_ ” too late to actuallycatch him.

He quickly follows.

Steve can tell when it notices them. It speeds up a bit, tail propelling it just a little faster through the water. Steve’s heartbeat speeds up the closer Bucky gets to it, speeding his own tail up too. Then his heart leaps up into his throat when Bucky slows and the shark’s mouth opens, rows of teeth shadowed beneath its face, only a few feet away from-

Bucky circles up and around quick over its head, out of the way of its teeth, metal fingers stroking gently across its head while he circles around its side and down underneath, scales glimmering then darkening under the shark’s shadow. He comes back up, all the way around, and grips its back fin, hitching a ride. 

Steve blinks, stares, then starts internally panicking when it starts heading for _him_. Bucky catches his eyes and waves him over, and Steve circles quicker than Bucky had out of the way of its mouth, black eye following him as he swims past it and hooks a hand on its fin above Bucky’s.

It’s _rough_. Like sandpaper. It’s-

He’s _touching_ a Great White _Shark_.

Steve stares at his hand on the fin, eyes wide, then finally looks up and finds Bucky grinning a bit at him like a kid.

“They’re more curious than anything,” Bucky says quietly, stroking his flesh fingers lightly over some of the shark’s skin. 

They ride for a minute, the water moving in a gentle, swaying current that buffers gently against their bodies before Bucky lets go, and Steve follows.

The shark circles them once, slow, black eye shifting slightly in its socket, then swims towards them again. Bucky dodges out of the way in a smooth arch, Steve following like his shadow, and lets his fingers drag lightly across its forehead. 

The shark circles again and then goes back to the path it was on, slowly swimming away, becoming another mirage in the distance.

Steve stares, eyes still a little wide and heart hammering, and blows out a watery breath.

“Cool, huh?” Bucky asks, and Steve glances over to find him grinning again, small, but teeth as sharp as the shark’s.

His own lips pull up and Steve finds himself grinning back. “Yeah,” he agrees. _Really_ cool.

\-------

Clint follows Natasha down to the docks, keeping a look out. They managed to lose all three of their tails, fortunately, but neither of them is sure how long that is actually going to last. 

Natasha finds their port quickly and they make their way down to their boat, damp wood of the dock gently rocking under their feet on the waves. Natasha hops into the back of what appears to be their boat first before gesturing for him to throw his bag. Clint does, hopping in after, and accepts the bag back from her before following her down below into the darkness of the cabin. She walks over to the start of the bed and crouches down, and Clint raises his eyebrows.

“Honeymoon?” he croons playfully. 

She throws him a small smirk over her shoulder while tapping a hidden button, a section of the carpet in front of her sliding back to reveal a sealed, metal door in the floor, neon fingerpad lighting up the room and turning her edges a sharp blue. She taps in a code, presses her thumb to the fingerpad, and then bends down lower for the retinal scan. The door unseals with a quiet _hiss_. She turns the lock on it and pulls the door up and open, dropping her bag down the shaft before descending down into the hole after it. Clint steps closer, watching her scale the latter down until her feet are on ground. She steps aside. 

He drops his bag down and then starts climbing down after it, pausing to re-close and seal the door in a similar fashion to how it was opened, not even a _little_ surprised that his code and retinal scan work.

“Welcome to the _Evenstar_ ,” a familiar voice says, and he looks back over his shoulder before dropping the last few rungs, turning.

“Hill,” he greets, waving a hand, “Nice _Lord of the Rings_ reference. Arwen was always my favorite.” He grins. Natasha tosses him his bag and he catches it with an ’ _oomph_ ’, giving her a mock-hurt look.

“I would’ve thought it would be Legolas,” Hill replies, turning and heading down the _surprisingly long hall_. That’s a S.H.I.E.L.D. sub for you.

“Why? Because we’re both archers?” he teases, following along behind Natasha. Hill looks back over her shoulder. “Nah,” he continues, “Arwen reminds me of Tasha. _Of course_ she’s my fave.” Hill’s lips quirk and Natasha’s do, too, just a smidge.

Hill gestures towards a hall on the right as they pass with, “That’s the residential wing. You can choose your own rooms later.”

“Helpfully labeled for once,” Clint mutters, spotting the painted letters on the wall, dull red on grey, but big enough even an amateur archer wouldn’t miss. “How many on the crew?” he asks.

“Just us,” Hill replies, coming to a stop and pressing her thumb to the fingerpad on the door ahead and leading the way into the room when it slides open, “We have fifteen different ways to contact the surface should anything go wrong with the sub, below and above water, as well as breathing apparatuses and deep sea diving gear.”

The room they step into is wide, about as wide as the inside of the Avenger jet with a large, glass window showing the underwater night life. It looks like an abyss, even when they aren’t that deep in it yet.

“A visor comes down to block the glass if we need to go deeper or if something should happen to it,” Hill says, noticing his stare. She presses a button on the control panel and there it is. “Sonar viewing and x-ray.”

“The other Avengers?” Natasha asks, looking around, taking in the controls.

“Not in the loop, yet,” Hill answers, crossing her arms and turning to look at them, “We’ll bring them in when we need to, but for now, it’s just the three of us.” She gestures to the seats and console. “Would you like to do the honors?” she asks, “It has a similar enough set up to the quinjets.”

Clint perks up, looking to Natasha, who huffs a very quiet breath, and gestures towards them as well. Clint grins and jogs over, quickly taking the left seat out of habit.

“I get to pilot a _sub_ ,” he says giddily, practically vibrating while he reaches for the controls. Hill presses one and they hear a faint unlatching, and then they drift in the water until he gets the silent running engines going.

\-------

Steve stares up, eyes a little wide while he watches, entranced.

The ocean surface above rages back and forth, light slanting through a myriad of light and dark and somewhere in between, caught and torn in the waves shifting with the rapid wind of the storm, light and shadow dancing. 

It’s so quiet down here, peaceful down below where the weather can’t reach.

“It’s amazing,” he whispers, and amazing still that he doesn’t have to blink, doesn’t have to tear his eyes away from the sight for a second, not anymore. 

Bucky’s fingers give his a gentle squeeze, webbing between their fingers rubbing gently.

“Come on,” Bucky says quietly, glowing a low, gentle blue in the night, pushing himself up from his rock. Steve still has a hard time tearing his eyes away, even after a year, but he does, following Bucky down further to the ocean floor, or at least, this level of it, squeezing down under a low overhang of rock curving down to the sand like an old, lurching man in a jagged, torn cloak.

Bucky pulls him in close and Steve twines their tails together, shifting when Bucky nudges so they can curl their tails up instead, wrapping them around each other, Bucky’s fins lightly skimming his back and making Steve shudder. He turns his head to look up again, watching the distant surface just past the edge of the overhang. 

It’s not just the sight that still enraptures him, but the...concept. He spent so much of his life fighting, but here, those battles don’t exist. He’s been removed from the endless cycle of war and battle and _fightfightfight_ , and he feels so small like this, like when he didn’t understand fighting, when it didn’t exist for him yet as a child when his mother tucked him in at night. But he feels...removed, too, distant, can see it for what it is more clearly in other ways when he’s looking at it from afar.

 _Like Natasha_ , a quiet part of his mind whispers. He feels a light pang in his chest at the thought, of the surface and his friends and that world.

Steve understands it better now though, why Bucky never understood the war back then. He was raised in a place it didn’t exist, not in the way Steve understood it. It was foreign to him, and worthless. Steve understood this before, but...seeing it like this gives him a newer, clearer understanding of it.

Knuckles lightly skim his cheek and Steve drags his eyes away, turning his head to follow them. His eyes find Bucky’s, the soft glow from their scales gently lighting up his face, his eyes, as storm colored as the one above their heads. Steve doesn’t dare blink to miss a moment of those, either. 

He curls up after a minute, pressing his forehead to Bucky’s, and eventually his eyes drift shut on their own to the sight of Bucky’s storm watching him, light from his tail fading as sleep starts to pull him under, the feeling of knuckles trailing gently up and down his back.

\-------

Clint pops another gummy worm into his mouth and almost chokes on it when Natasha suddenly swats his feet off the console. “ _Nat_ ,” he gets out between coughs, thumping his chest with a fist and trying to _breathe_.

“It’s a sub console, not your coffee table,” she scolds mildly, taking her own seat and looking over the readouts. They haven’t run into anything, yet, but it’s only been a week.

 _Ugh, it’s been a week_. 

When he was thinking about vacation time, this wasn’t it. The sub’s different and all, but even that awe’s worn out.

“Anything?” she asks.

“Nope,” he replies, tilting his head back to drop another batch of sour, sugary worms into his mouth, offering the bag over. She takes a blue one. “Same as this morning. And yesterday. And a week ago,” he continues, muffled between his chewing. She sits up, then stands, knocking his feet down when he goes to put them up on the console again. He frowns, eyes following her as she goes.

He sits forward in his chair when he hears the door shut, looking to making sure, then sits back, putting his feet back up on the console and crossing them at the ankles.

-

He sighs while he heads down the hall, stopping to look left and right before choosing a random direction to wander in. He knows where everything is by now, but if he _tries hard enough not to think about it_ , he can stop and actually be _surprised_ at where he’s wound up at.

He trails past the gym (weird choice to put in a sub), the cafeteria (useless for three of them, mostly), the common room (not as weird, but still a little weird. But hey, all the walls have scenery changing screens, kind of a plus when you’re living down here longer than a few days), and winds up back in the intersecting halls, eyes glossing over ‘ _RESIDENTIAL WING_ ’ as he heads down it. 

He slips his hands in his pockets and whistles as he goes, disrupting the unending silence, then slows to a stop when something catches his eye and turns on his heel, his whistling trailing off. He steps forward, leaning against the doorframe and knocking on the metal.

Natasha looks up, a little like she got caught, which is never exactly a good thing.

He doesn’t say anything, just slips his hand back into his pocket and waits. She looks to the side so he waits her out, patient and quiet.

“Do you think we’re doing the right thing?” she asks after a few minutes, pulling her knee in a little closer on the bed, back against the wall. “If we do find them, or more than them,” she continues quieter, “The species has been in hiding for who knows how long. There’s risks,” she clarifies, “But it’s been quiet for a long time.”

He hums quietly after a silent minute and she slowly drags her eyes back.

“I think,” he starts, tapping a booted toe lightly against the grated floor, “If they’ve been around for a really long time, that humans have been poking the bear with a stick for almost as long. Especially with what happened to Barnes.”

She looks off to the side again, considering. “We could be going into a war,” she surmises quietly, but doesn’t sound surprised. 

Clint nods anyway, looking down at the floor. “Yup,” he agrees, sighing quietly, “Yeah.” 

He steps into the room after a moment, testing the waters, and when she doesn’t shift one way or the other, walks further in and takes a seat on the bed, a foot away from her socked toes. They wriggle a little on the sheets and his lips curl. He scoots back until his back comes to rest against the wall, calves on the edge of the bed and feet dangling over the edge in the air.

“But hey,” he says after a minute, “We’ll get to see Barnes and Rogers again.” Her lips tick up and she shoves her foot at his thigh. He catches her ankle and rubs his thumb against her anklebone through her sock.

-

“Nothing on sonar,” Hill reports a few more days later. 

They’ve slowly made their way down the Atlantic Ocean into the Southern Ocean, and are starting to angle back up now to head into the Indian Ocean. They took a week combing what they could of the Atlantic, trying different depths and sonar frequencies, but found nothing.

“I’m going to switch on the signal,” she continues, flipping a switch. Clint doesn’t hear anything, but the little light above the switch is on so there must be something.

“What signal?” he asks, looking over. 

Hill’s lips press together a little. “We found some old recordings and Hydra files of tests done to study Barnes’ and another’s ‘vocal capacities’ and ‘methods of communication’ at one of the bases we raided,” she answers, “They didn’t spend too much time on it so there wasn’t a whole lot, but there was enough to string this together.”

She flicks another switch and a melodic sound fills the room, echoing gently off the walls, unlike anything he’s ever heard before. He looks around for a moment along with Natasha before looking back to Hill.

“Is that Barnes?” he asks quieter. Because it’s lower, now that he’s paying more attention to it. It’s not human, and it doesn’t _sound_ human, but it’s got a lower range, a lot like a man’s.

“Yes,” Hill answers, flicking the switch. It cuts off and he looks to the window. 

_It’s playing out there_ , he realizes.

“Will it attract unwanted attention?” Natasha asks, already ahead of him, shifting her own eyes from the window back to Hill.

“We tested an assortment of recordings in controlled environments with a variety of sea creatures,” she answers, “This was the one they reacted to the least.”

“Still risky,” Clint comments, and Hill nods, but straightens up.

“We don’t have many other options,” she replies, looking over to the two of them, “The council is growing antsy.” She turns and heads for the door. “I’ll give them my progress report,” she adds on her way out, the door sliding shut behind her.

Clint looks over at Nat, who glances back, then looks back out the window into the endless deep.

\-------

Steve swims a loop around Bucky, spiralling through the currents while they head to nowhere in particular at all. Bucky glances at him, lips quirking, and lowers a hand enough for Steve to feel the backs of Bucky’s knuckles skim across his hip each circle.

Steve lowers his eyes, watches Bucky’s hand contrast with his light colored scales, echoes of the surface reflection above shifting across Bucky’s skin like a lover, the tide a loving being caressing their serpentine forms. He shifts his eyes to Bucky’s scales, the dark depth of them shimmering gently under the wisps of light.

Steve makes his own glow just a little, smiling when Bucky does after a moment, too.

Steve hasn’t seen Bucky do it a whole lot, the glowing, Before and now. Bucky seems to mostly save it for when they dive deep down where their version of night vision kicks in and their thickened skin and metabolisms are put to better use. The night vision’s nothing like on land, he quickly found. It’s like seeing clear as day in the dark in colors he didn’t even know existed (and he loved finally being able to see what Bucky apparently always could, loved seeing Bucky in those colors too, then flushed when he realized Bucky had looked at him in _them. Had he really looked like that?_ ).

Steve loops him again, immediately slowing and ceasing his spiralling when Bucky slows, eyes following Bucky’s line of sight.

There’s another one of them far off, far enough that even Steve’s eyes are having a hard time making out more than their colors in the shade. It looks like it might be a male and- dangerously thin. 

He thinks of the decaying corpse from the Hydra mountain base and shudders faintly.

“Bucky,” he says quietly, a pang in his chest.

“Keep moving,” Bucky replies quieter, tension around his eyes. 

Bucky calls them ‘exiles’. Like they are, apparently, Bucky first and now Steve. The ones they’ve seen, few as they have been, haven’t all looked so haggard, but none of them have looked like him or Bucky: scales shimmering healthily under the sun and bodies well nourished. Bucky said it was because exiles tend to travel and work alone, and from what Steve’s gathered, Bucky’s people, while they can work alone, grow up in more of a ‘pack’ or ‘community group’ environment. And because exiles don’t happen often. When they do, the ones exiled are usually the type to go to the surface and live there. The ones that mainly stay in the ocean are more what Steve would probably call the closest to ‘criminals’ Bucky’s people have. The ones that have gone to the surface without permission and have been banished, or the ones that veer from their society and don’t belong. 

It’s a lonely thought.

Steve had been torn between despair and laughing, because he and Bucky were considered _criminals_.

Point is, he and Bucky are the healthiest either of them have seen because they hunt together and watch each other’s six. Others...are not so lucky, and Steve has seen a few parts of skeletons Bucky’s silently pointed out sunken in the deep depths of the ocean to prove it, but not more than that. If there’s one thing both the exiles and non-exiles seem to agree on, it’s keeping their race a secret.

Steve keeps pace with Bucky and an eye on the other and their surroundings, wanting to help and...not being able to. He doesn’t see the whale pod until it’s too late, too focused on the other spotting and tensing at seeing them.

One Orca sweeps into it before it can react, shoving it about while another sweeps in when it’s disoriented and opens its mouth-

Steve quickly looks away, fingers finding Bucky’s, the spurt-cloud of red and barely-there, distorted, melodic scream on loop in his head.

Bucky squeezes his fingers and they pass at a sedate pace, avoiding drawing the attention of the whales.

Down here, everything’s food, especially when you’re alone. Steve’s just glad Bucky isn’t, even if it came at a heavy cost. Because that could’ve been Bucky, if things had turned out differently.

\--

They swim for days, going everywhere, nowhere. Steve’s curious about Bucky’s birthplace, has been curious about it since Steve met him, but Bucky can’t go back and Steve definitely can’t go, so it’s become something he thinks about in the interim, just idle thoughts. 

He thinks about how Bucky might’ve been as a child, if his scales were a different color, his eyes, if he was born blonde and then it quickly faded to the dark brown it is now, or if he was born with the color. He asked once, just once, because Bucky’s eyes had gone far away and his smile had been barely there and sadly wistful, but Bucky had said his scales were a brighter but still deep blue as a child, and his nails had been stubby little things that couldn’t even cut paper until he’d grown to the equivalent of a five year old. His nails had become sharp enough to scratch stone and he’d been born with teeth sharp enough to tear through skin and bone.

They’d swam some more and then Steve had taken Bucky’s hand and spiralled up with him towards the surface, tails twining. Steve had grinned and gotten Bucky to smile, the rays of light filtering down from the surface dancing along his curved up cheeks and the ends of his hair, and the necklace and bracelet Steve had bought for him that he still wears.

Even if Steve can’t see the place Bucky was born, at least they could be together again. That thought was lonely too, but it still warmed him, and it seemed it warmed Bucky, too.

Steve’s grateful. Bucky had been forced to be cold for too long. Steve’s glad to see him warming up again.

Now, they drift through the ocean, Steve’s scales glowing soft and Bucky’s barely a glimmer. He likes keeping to the dark, a hidden predator. Steve’s melodic hum twines gently with the currents, buffers out into the surrounding rock formations and cliffs into the nothing where it fades to the same, fingers twined and webbing rubbing gently in the in between, the dips and valleys that make up their hands. Bucky’s thumb gently rubs over his and Steve’s lips curve up while they swim in a gentle curve around a jagged boulder, Bucky’s voice joining hi-

Bucky jerks to a stop just before Steve does, their eyes meeting. They both look out towards the right and Steve frowns, tail swaying gently in the water to keep himself still beside Bucky.

It’s Bucky’s voice, but it isn’t. It can’t be. Bucky’s right here.

They both stare in the direction that his voice is coming from, Bucky gradually tensing while the words finally sink in, half just...sound.

“. _..Help...help. Help me…please just-_ ”

It loops, just that sentence. It’s quiet, defeated, sounds like Bucky’s barely even holding onto any hope that someone will come-

Steve grips Bucky’s hand tighter and Bucky jolts faintly, barely shuddering after.

It sounds like it’s a recording. Hydra?

What if it’s _not_ Hydra? The chances are slim, but- But Hydra isn’t the only one who would be looking for them.

“We should look,” Steve says quietly. Bucky’s eyes are already hardening before he even opens his mouth. Steve hates it.

Bucky takes a moment, staring towards his own voice. Finally, “Only look,” he decides, looking over at Steve, “Nothing more.” Bucky’s expression tightens and he looks back towards the sound growing closer. “If it’s them, we might have…” he doesn’t finish, shoulders rolling back and back straightening.

Bucky grips his hand tighter after a few moments and Steve squeezes it back. Their eyes meet again and Bucky starts gliding forward, leading the way.

They stay behind rocks and outcropping as much as they can, in case of cameras. They can’t do much about radar but Steve’s raced dolphins (actual _dolphins_. He and Bucky had both won that day); he’s a fast swimmer. 

When they finally come upon it, inching nearer and stopping behind a rock cluster-formation, it turns out to be a submarine, lights blindingly bright in the deep of the ocean. Steve can just make out a dark S.H.I.E.L.D. logo emblazoned on the side, black over deep blue, reflective metal.

They stare for a long minute before looking back to each other. The submarine slows to a stop and their eyes dart back as they tense.

“ _Captain Rogers? This is Maria Hill from S.H.I.E.L.D., do you copy?_ ”

Steve’s eyes widen while Bucky’s narrow, still gripping his hand tightly.

“A trick?” Steve near whispers.

“ _Rogers, Barnes, this is Natasha Romanoff. Do you read?_ ”

 _Natasha_. Or at least, it _sounds_ like Natasha.

Steve takes a minute to deliberate. He slowly starts inching out, stopping when Bucky’s hand tugs sharply on his own. He looks over and Bucky’s expression is pinched. Bucky shakes his head. “It could be a recording,” he warns.

“ _I really hope these two blips on the radar are you guys_ ,” Clint’s voice says next, and their eyes dart back to the sub, “ _This’d be really awkward if it isn’t._ ”

“ _Like that’s ever stopped you_ ,” Natasha’s voice quips back.

“ _True. Uhh...maybe a song?” Clint asks, “Proof of life? Or self? I’ll tell you guys what, I’ve had this one-”_

_“No.”_

_“-stuck in my head for the last three days, and there’s no wifi down here! I can’t even listen to it! So-”_

_“Clint.”_

_“Who you think you’re kiddin’? Heee’s the earth and heaven to ya’- Something-something-something, got iiiiit baa-aaad- Whooooa-”_

_“Ugh_.”

Steve blinks, presses his lips together, trying not to laugh despite the situation they’ve wound up in, and glances over at Bucky.

He still looks suspicious and Steve can’t blame him, but more indecisive now. He looks over at Steve. “Stay here,” Bucky says, and Steve frowns. Bucky squeezes his hand. “Please. Steve.”

Steve holds his stare for a long minute before eventually sighing, nodding. “But if something happens, I’m not staying put.”

Bucky nods back and Steve slowly lets go, watches Bucky turn back and then swim slowly towards the sub, all humor gone and senses focused, alert.

\--

“Guys- Guys! We’re getting something on the sensors!” Clint announces.

“Size?” Hill asks, peering at the console over his shoulder.

“Eighteen and nineteen feet,” Clint answers, adjusting the engines to idle, “Proximity: forty feet.”

Hill steps around to stand next to him and flips a switch, leaning down towards the microphone. “Captain Rogers? This is Maria Hill from S.H.I.E.L.D., do you copy?”

Clint’s eyes track the two little signatures on the screen in the panel, focused, intent. “They stopped,” he reports quietly.

Hill looks to Natasha when she walks in and takes the seat to the left, switching the other microphone on.

“Rogers, Barnes, this is Natasha Romanoff. Do you read?”

Nothing. Clint decides to break the ice, or water, in this case, and then-

“One of the blips is coming towards us,” he reports.

Silence again, save for the non-silence of the heavy metal of the sub drifting in the deep. Then they hear a hard _thud_ and all of their heads snap up to the left.

“Rogers? Barnes?” Natasha asks. Clint swallows. “Double tap if it’s either of you.”

They wait, listen for a long minute.

 _Thud-thud_.

They glance at each other.

That might not mean anything. God, what if _is_ another mermaid, or worse, what if it’s a _giant squid_ or something. They’re pretty deep down ( _because that’s not creepy at all_ ).

“Please come into the light in the front of the sub so we can see you and you can see us,” Hill instructs. 

They stare out into the dark, tense.

“ _Pleasedon’tbeagiantsquid, pleasedon’tbeagiantsquid, pleasedon’tbeagiantsquid,_ ” Clint whispers, legs tense like he’s ready to bolt. Like that’d save him if something really managed to break in here-

There’s nothing for a couple minutes, just their (forced, for him, at least) steady breathing, and then slowly, something inches out into view, like an octopus out of hiding, slowly drifting into the lights in the viewing window. Barnes’ hair shifts with the ocean, longer now, pupils pin-small in the bright rays of the light and eyes washed out in the same, almost as white as his skin. His tail coils and sways, glimmers like a deep hued stone in a fake sun. His inner metal arm reflects some of the deep greens and blues from his tail.

None of them breathe for a few moments. It takes that long before Hill speaks.

“The World Security Council wants to find and meet with the leaders of the others like you,” she informs him, voice steady, “We were able to get the scouting assignment first, but won’t be the last if we fail. We need to talk.”

Barnes’ expression and body have tensed and the end of his tail lashes through the water like an irritated cat, barely any resistance at all. Thing must be _strong_. But after a moment, he nods stiffly before his eyes snap to the side.

Another slinks into view and they all hold their breath, eyes widening just a bit. It takes Clint a second or two to recognize him.

Rogers’ hair is longer as well, drifting and sashaying around to the ebb and flow like a bright halo in the pitch. His scales are bright where Barnes’ are dark, white with a sheen of rainbow threaded within a metallic, glinting blue shimmering along the expansive length of his tail.

“Well, damn,” Clint breaks the stunned silence with a whistle, “Look’it you, Cap.”

Steve grins with razor sharp teeth, tail twining around Barnes’ like two coiling snakes, Rogers’ hand finding Barnes’ flesh one.

“It’s just us in here,” Natasha informs them. Rogers’ and Barnes’ eyes shift. “Head up to the hatch in the top. There’s an air lock.”

Rogers nods and slowly tugs Barnes’ up, who keeps his eyes on them for a moment longer before following, tails on untwining to glide them through the water smoother than anything Clint could name, like they’re part of the water. Even his arrows going through air don’t move like that.

\--

Steve coughs and hacks water up out of his lungs and can feel their worried eyes, but Bucky puts a hand on his shoulder and mumbles something quiet in his ear and Steve nods, coughs gradually trailing off while he tries to regulate his breathing like Bucky said. It takes a couple minutes, but Steve’s always been a quick learner. He finally pulls in a full breath of cough-free air and they all relax. Now he just has to figure out how to walk again.

“Hey, Cap.”

“Barton,” Steve says, or tries to say. It comes out a variation of high pitched sounds that has everyone but Bucky wincing. Steve glances over at him and clears his throat. Bucky tightens the arm around his waist and tries to help him stand.

“GOOD TO SEE YOU AGAIN,” Clint half-yells in the middle of adjusting his hearing aids, “MAN, even I heard that.”

Bucky helps Steve balance, legs wobbly, foreign things where he’s gotten used to his tail being. It feels like standing on stilts. He tries to take a step and collapses into Bucky like a rickety folding table. Bucky takes his weight, feet planted like trees.

“Show off,” Steve mutters. Bucky gives him a small, razor smirk in response. Steve’s lips twitch up.

“So, I don’t mind, but how ‘bout we get you two a blanket?” Barton breaks the silence with, and Steve glances down, notices for the first time in a year with a more human-kind of clarity that he’s naked. It took him a while to get used to it at first, but even without any clothes, being a mermaid underwater is a bit like being a super soldier on land: the temperature is usually agreeable. When it’s not, he’s always got Bucky he can wind around and get warm with.

Steve’s cheeks warm a bit and he nods. “A blanket-...would be fine,” he replies slowly, in uncertain English this time, glancing over at Bucky.

Bucky looks back, then over at the others. “I’m fine.” He bares his teeth a little. Steve thinks it’s a better response than they would have gotten a year ago.

“I’m not complaining either,” Natasha quips, crossing her arms with a small smirk while Barton trots off to find a blanket.

Bucky raises an eyebrow but they both know she couldn’t care less.

“This way,” Hill instructs after Steve’s wrapped up, Bucky’s arm still firmly around his waist. They play follow the leader down a winding maze of hallways while Steve struggles to re-learn how to walk, one foot slowly in front of the other like wobbly bendy straws. The submarine is large, but it’s easier for Steve to try and remember the layout if he memorizes the signs and route numbers instead of the actual hallways. They’re lead to what looks like a lounge room with a hologram of the outside of the sub running most of the length of the far wall, fish occasionally skittering in and out of view.

“Stark?” Steve asks, struggling to put the sounds into English words instead of melodic ones as he and Bucky lower to a couch.

“He had a hand in some of the design,” Hill replies, taking a seat on the opposite one. Romanoff and Barton sit a couple cushions down from her.

Steve’s lips curl up. Surprisingly, it’s nice to think of Stark after so long, and nice to see his touches here and there in the sub, especially something so...innocuous, even given its size.

“Shall we get down to business?” Hill asks. 

“To defeat. _The hun_ -” Barton cuts off with a low wheeze as Natasha pulls her elbow back in.

“The World Security Council has sent us to act as liaisons, ambassadors of sorts,“ Hill starts blithely, ignoring the interruption, “In reality, they are...unnerved by discovering the existence of an entire civilization living below the ocean.”

“Typical,” Bucky grits lowly, tightening his arm around Steve’s waist beneath the blanket.

Barton shrugs a shoulder while Hill and Natasha remain composed.

“We were sent to find and recruit you to make contact with the underwater civilization,” Hill continues, and Bucky subtly stiffens all along Steve’s side. She notices. “Will this be possible?”

Bucky shakes his head, leaning back a little into the couch and almost taking Steve with him, like leaning them both far enough away from the conversation will get them out of it altogether and back to their lives of wandering freely throughout the ocean.

“I’m an exile,” Bucky replies, sliding his hand a bit up Steve’s back and making him shudder, “We both are. I am forbidden from returning on pain of death. For Steve, it will be worse.”

Hill’s lips thin and Steve knows what she’s going to say before she says it. It’s all like riding a bike, one he doesn’t feel too keen on getting back on.

“You might not have a choice,” she sounds regretful, low and sincere, “If this doesn’t work, the Council will take more drastic measures.”

They both stare at her. After a full minute, Bucky sits back forward slightly. “I didn’t want to die so soon.”

“You mean ‘we’,” Steve cuts in. Bucky’s eyes slant over to him, brows lowered and mouth opening- “No,” Steve cuts him off firmly before he can start, and Bucky’s teeth _clack_ shut, “I’m coming.” He takes hold of Bucky’s free hand. “To the end of the line, remember?”

Bucky’s expression hardens but his eyes soften, just a little, just enough, hand squeezing Steve’s tightly. “We’ll die,” he says. 

Steve brings their hands up and presses his lips to Bucky’s knuckles. “Then we do it together.”

Bucky keeps it from his face, but something in his eyes crumples a little helplessly, a little gratefully, fingers tightening around Steve’s again. “Four days,” he says, expression firm again as he looks to Hill, “If we’re not back by then, we’re dead.”

Hill’s lips flatten further, but she nods.

\-----

 _Looks like I’ll get to see it after all_ , Steve thinks as he keeps pace with Bucky, if just slightly behind since Bucky’s leading him into uncharted territory. Even though he’ll get to see where Bucky was born, this wasn’t how he wanted it to happen.

He gives Bucky’s hand a squeeze and Bucky squeezes back, barely glancing over at him as he scans their surroundings, looking for- well, probably something familiar from where he grew up. Steve wonders if the ocean landscape changes as much and as little as the ones above land do, if some markers stay around for decades while others are washed away in some way or another.

They swim for what feels like might be a day, and then Bucky finally slows to a stop. Steve follows his gaze out to-...nothing. There’s a few boulders and a nearby steep, rocky cliff that leads up to some sort of landmass Steve doesn’t recognize, but that’s it. Unless…

“Hidden?” Steve asks quietly, looking over. Bucky nods a fraction, then slowly starts swimming closer, and Steve follows. 

After a few minutes, a mermaid- or man, rounds a large outcropping of rock in some intricate armor the like of Steve’s never seen before, even after having seen the Chitauri’s and Thor’s. It twines and melds over his torso and arms, all the way down the length of his spiralling, dark red tail, a long, multi-pointed blade like shark teeth in his grip that looks like it’d do massive damage if it caught on or in flesh.

Steve looks him over while hovering with Bucky, who’s stiff at his side, just a little in front of him.

“You are not to be here,” the merman- person? Says, bringing his sword back in a pose, ready to strike.

“I am tasked with a communication mission from the knowing humans,” Bucky answers calmly.

The soldier - because he has to be, even if their methods differ from humans, Steve would recognize the way he holds himself, the look of him - narrows his eyes, but doesn’t swing his sword. “Name them.”

“S.H.I.E.L.D.,” Bucky answers.

“Purpose?”

“Intelligence, weapons, security, oversight.”

The Soldier slowly straightens out of his pose, though he doesn’t completely lower the blade. He opens his mouth and a sound ripples out through the water, a- call?

Another soldier swims out from- somewhere, dark green scales almost black in the deep, and darts off into-

Steve blinks.

He disappeared.

The soldier watches them and Bucky watches the soldier, completely still save for their tails smoothly sliding through the water, shifting side to side to keep them in place. Steve’s eyes catch on the blue of Bucky’s for a moment, the way the distant light manages to catch gently on the shifting curves and light up the peacock and emerald greens embedded in the blue, and the edge of a scar on the curve.

A tense, few minutes later, there’s a different ripple of sound and then the guard slowly lowers his sword and turns, pointing it into the middle distance in the direction the other soldier disappeared into. “Go,” he orders, “You know the way.”

Bucky gives Steve’s hand a squeeze and starts leading him forward, not looking away from the soldier for a long moment. Steve keeps aware of their surroundings while they move, and then they seem to pass through some invisible...resonance? It feels hot-cold over his skin and Steve’s eyes are suddenly filled with a huge _city_.

There’s merpeople... _everywhere_ , individuals, groups moving together in smooth curves like schools of fish around, overhead, silhouetted by the brighter blue from above. All of them look over and many stop to stare, but Bucky just keeps moving, leading straight for the tallest building ahead. Guards surround them before they’re even a quarter of the way there, seem to meld out from in between nearby buildings to escort them. Steve watches them warily, but also can’t help his eyes roaming around.

This is where Bucky was born.

It looks nothing like he imagined.

It’s advanced, more advanced than even Avengers Tower. There’s blue, glowing lines that run throughout everything, even the ground below them. The buildings are varying heights, tall and short, spirals and blocks that all seem to mesh in a style like something from ancient Greece meets a sleeker future than even Stark has managed to build. But the blue glow, it reminds Steve of-

“The cube?” he asks quietly, looking sharply over to Bucky.

Bucky glances back briefly before looking straight ahead. “It is very old. It was here first.”

Steve pulls his head back a little and drags his eyes back around the scenery with that new understanding.

Red Skull found the cube over sixty years ago. Steve knows Bucky ages differently, like the serum had been for Steve, as far as they know, but it’s- It’s almost impossible to calculate, but if the cube was here before _Bucky_ -

Then Bucky’s right, it _is_ very old.

They’re lead through a glowing doorway that shimmers green as they pass through it, more onlookers inside the large, arching room stopping to watch them intently as they pass. Most of them seem to be looking at Bucky and his arm, but Steve gets his fair share of looks too, his scales bright where everyone else’s are dark. They’re lead into some sort of throne room where a gray haired merman is sitting high on a sloping, tall, raised dais, deep, royal purple tail covered in intricate gold decorations that wind down the length of it, lounging almost lazily with his elbow on the wide, curved armrest and a few fingers at his brow. His deep brown eyes watch them with a weight Steve hasn’t had to feel in a long time. It reminds him a bit of Thor in his more serious moments, when they were all reminded he was a prince to an advanced civilization’s kingdom.

 _A king_ , Steve thinks, this is their king, their ruler, leader.

His eyes shift to the left.

There is a woman too, with gray-white hair wound up in drifting loops and waves gracefully floating about her like swaying branches on the wind. She’s covered in intricate silver, all the way down the length of her deep blue, nearly black tail, eyes a deeper blue than Bucky’s. Neither of them look to be over forty, but it’s hard to tell with them not being human.

Their escort comes to a stop ten feet from the start of the dais.

“Exile,” the man- King, addresses, voice a low rumble that shakes a chord deep in Steve, “You bring news of the surface.”

“They are coming,” Bucky answers calmly, but straight to the point, “I have been selected to attempt a dialogue.”

The King watches him closely. The woman’s eyes look...kind, sad, Steve thinks, but the man’s are almost completely unreadable and shrewd. Steve’s met generals with a similar look, and he’s under no illusions that this man will be _kind_ to them being here.

“To what end?” the King finally asks.

“Negotiations,” Bucky answers, “A main, human intelligence agency is aware of our existence and want talks.”

“How have they become aware of our existence?” the King asks, slowly straightening, but he seems to already be aware of the answer.

Bucky’s jaw clenches. “It is partly my doing.”

Steve looks over sharply at that.

The King waits, then, “‘Partly’?”

“They were aware of our existence before they were aware of mine,” Bucky answers neutrally.

The King slowly arches a brow. It is not a kind look, especially since he’s looking down his nose. “You’ve fallen into human hands, and brought that monstrosity here.”

Steve thinks he’s talking about him for a second, before he catches Bucky’s metal fingers curling out of the corner of his eye.

“As well as made a Transformation of a human. Does your carelessness know no bounds?” the King asks.

Ah, _that_ would be about Steve.

Steve looks up sharply. The King doesn’t so much as glance at him.

Bucky keeps silent, jaw clenched. It’s strange to see him so...submissive, if unwillingly.

“You know the punishment for returning alone, yet death would be too swift for the amount of treason you have committed. You would have to die at least three times over,” the King continues steadily.

Steve’s fingers curl into fists, sharp nails nearly piercing his skin.

He knows he should keep quiet, he knows he should, but-

The King jerks his chin and the guards start moving in, and Steve grits out, “Stop.” The King and- Queen, probably, shift their eyes to him and the guards halt when the King lifts a hand. Steve is acutely aware of a sharp point pressing just faintly to the back of his neck, making his hair stand on end. Or would, if i wasn’t floating in the water. “With all due respect, your majesty, Bucky’s been through hell, more hell than anyone I’ve ever known and I’ve known a lot of people, and seen a lot of death. He’s come here because he felt he had no choice, because he was tasked with a mission he knew was against your laws, because he doesn’t want the humans, my people, coming here, because he still cares about this place regardless of being exiled or not. And,” he continues, because he’s half-making this up as he goes and half has a plan, sort of. He can see Bucky’s slightly wide eyes on him in his periphery and has to try not to look back. “He’s on a mission from S.H.I.E.L.D. as a delegate to try and open up communication with you. If you kill him, you could start a war.”

“We have seen human wars,” the King says impassively, which just makes Steve’s jaw clench a little.

“Maybe,” he agrees. The King’s eyes sharpen. “But things have changed drastically in the last few years. I wouldn’t be surprised if what you have so much confidence in to protect you has become obsolete, or out maneuverable.”

It’s dead silent for a minute, and Steve tries very hard not to swallow. He’s pretty sure he just stepped, or swam, into it, but he’s more nervous for Bucky than himself. Steve just back talked the guy who was ready to kill them. There’s so few ways this could go.

He doesn’t take his eyes away from the King’s though; he knows a powerplay stare down when he’s in one.

The King sits back just a fraction. “You speak loudly for such a small creature.”

“I’ve seen my share,” Steve replies stiffly.

The King stares him down another moment, then shifts his eyes back to Bucky. “You will stay while we deliberate,” he says, waving his fingers. The blade at the back of Steve’s neck pulls away. He doesn’t relax, but it does make it easier to move when their escorts start herding them out. Bucky takes his hand and it grips it bruisingly hard, and it’s only when they’re leaving that Steve’s eyes shift to the Queen. _She’s smiling_ , he realizes, small and quiet, but she looks- happy? Almost.

They’re taken to a room some twists and turns through the- palace? The green glimmer that encompasses the doorway shifts to red as soon the last of Steve’s tail passes through. It’s a nicer room than a cell back home, even has two long sections a foot down into the floor with soft looking, algae type lining, presumably to make it soft for sleeping. But they are, for all intents and purposes, on lockdown.

“Are they going to kill us?” Steve asks. Bucky glares over at him and Steve shrugs helplessly.

“You shouldn’t have spoken,” Bucky says. The end of Steve’s fins slump and drift in the water. Bucky looks around the room. “But it may have saved us.”

Steve swims up to him and Bucky’s eyes shift back. He lets Steve cup his cheeks and get in close. “You didn’t deserve to have those things said to you, or about you, Buck,” Steve says softly. Bucky’s eyes close for just a moment before looking at him again. “How do you feel?” Steve asks, “Being back here.”

Bucky’s eyes shift away, take in some of the room again. “It feels like an old, worn photograph,” he answers quietly, “Half remembered. A long time ago.” He looks back and takes hold of Steve’s waist and pulls him in until they’re pressed together. “You being here...makes it different.”

“Better?” Steve asks with the beginnings of a smile.

Bucky’s lips twitch. “I didn’t say that.”

“Oh, I see,” Steve says, lifting his chin a little, “So I’m not your valued arm candy.”

“You’re my valued _something_ ,” Bucky mutters, closing the distance with a press of his lips before Steve can reply.

Bucky had said a year ago that he wasn’t kind anymore, but with Steve, he’s somehow still capable of being gentle. He had nightmares for a time after he returned to the water, bad ones, but being so far removed from where those nightmares became real seems to have gone a long way in helping him...handle it. Steve’s see bits of who Bucky was before resurface. He’s not the same as he used to be, he never will be and Steve doesn’t want to change him, but Steve’s been able to see him laugh, felt Bucky smile against his skin, and it breaks and remakes his heart every time. These beautiful moments where Bucky is finally able to _be_ , beyond his anger and pain and what he was forced to go through for so long.

“I love you,” Steve whispers against Bucky’s lips, hears it sung back to him in beautiful, melodic notes he can understand now.

“I love you,” Bucky returns quietly, kissing him again.

They eventually drift over to one of the beds in the floor and curl around each other, Steve slouched down with his upper back against the low wall and his fingers gently playing with Bucky’s drifting hair, Bucky’s head resting on his stomach. That’s how their visitor finds them.

The Queen drifts into view of the doorway but does not pass through the red glow barring their leaving. They both look up. Bucky makes no effort to move though, so Steve tries to refrain, too.

“Beucharion,” she addresses, which perks Steve’s interest, that, and that she conceded the stalemate and spoke first.

“Empress,” Bucky replies neutrally. 

It’s quiet for a moment, a quiet that seems to be packed full of things Steve can’t read.

“I did not think I would see you again,” she says, “But I had...hoped.”

“You wanted me dead?” Bucky asks, voice going quieter, lower.

Steve looks between the two of them and catches the shake of her head.

“I had hoped you would prosper,” she says.

“As you can see, I paid a steep price,” Bucky returns, almost flat.

Steve lowers the hand playing with Bucky’s hair and grips his shoulder. Her eyes drop to Bucky’s left side and then back up.

“A steep one indeed,” she says softly, eyes shifting to Steve, “Your companion was correct about the human technology, if it can function this deep.”

Bucky huffs a bitter, breathy laugh. “Here for information?”

She inclines her head a little. “Not just.”

Bucky holds her stare, though Steve feels Bucky tense subtly where their tails are twined together. “You’ve seen,” Bucky says, stiffly, almost gritted out.

She’s quiet for a few moments, and Steve can’t see her eyes that well through the glow, but she looks almost...sad. “So I have,” she says quieter, softer again. She swims away and Steve waits a minute before speaking.

“Buck?”

Bucky lets out a slow exhale, then after a time, “My mother.”

Steve’s wide eyes dart down to him. He had a feeling it was _something_ , but… “I take it that won’t help us,” he settles on, instead of the hundred other, loud, exclamation point ended things he wants to say.

“No,” Bucky answers.

 _Quiet_.

“Y’know, I can see now where you got your beautiful tail color and eyes,” Steve comments lightly, trying to lighten the mood.

Bucky tilts his head back, looking up at him with narrow eyes.

Steve shrugs. “It’s pretty.”

Bucky turns his face away.

“I was always curious about her,” Steve says softly, then raises his eyebrows and adds, “ _Prince_ Bucky.”

Bucky looks back to give him a flat look while the end of his tail swats at Steve’s, and Steve’s lips twitch. Bucky closes his eyes with a sigh and settles back down on his stomach. Steve runs his fingers through his hair.

 _A prince broke the rules for me, and ended up getting a lot more than he bargained for_ , Steve thinks. There’s questions he wants to ask, drifting and cramming his head, but one first and foremost comes to mind. “Does Hydra know?” he asks, quiet and low, just for Bucky.

Bucky doesn’t move. “No,” he says just as quietly back, face turning away again, “It was the one thing I was taking to my grave.” 

Steve runs his fingers gently over Bucky’s scalp and Bucky relaxes a little from where he’d gone tense again, because it’s in the air between them: Bucky told Hydra about Steve, but he didn’t tell them about this whole city, even through all that torture. Steve doesn’t blame him for that, not at all, and he wraps an arm around Bucky. Bucky finally relaxes again, reaching up to hold onto it.

“Three sisters,” Bucky says quietly.

“You don’t have to tell me, Buck,” Steve says softly, pulling him a little closer so he can press his lips to the top of Bucky’s head. “You don’t have to tell anyone, if you don’t want to.”

Bucky’s quiet for a minute, then he shifts a bit, enough to rest his cheek on Steve’s chest. “Three sisters,” he repeats quietly, glancing up at Steve, “Their tails are all colored like the Emperor’s. The eldest is next to rule.”

Steve tilts his head a little. “You were, before?”

“Yes,” Bucky answers, looking up at him again, “I was first born, but I threw it all away.”

Steve’s chest twinges and Bucky gives his arm a squeeze, watching him.

“The past is past, Steve,” he says, “I might have regretted it for what I had to endure, but we’re here now, and I have you in every way I need, just as you have me.”

Steve opens his mouth, closes it, holds Bucky tighter. “But you gave up so much,” he says quietly, heartbroken.

“Yes,” Bucky agrees, looking up at him again, “But I wanted to be with you. This is what I chose. I will not regret _that_ any longer. I haven’t for a while.”

Steve pulls Bucky closer and Bucky wraps an arm around his waist, the metal one. Steve keeps looking at him, gaze catching on the ring on Bucky’s necklace that drifts up between them.

Bucky was willing to leave his home, but he didn’t choose to get tortured or his arm cut off and replaced, or trained by Hydra. Steve knows _that’s_ what he regrets about choosing to be with him, the things that came after, that block of time that burned him down and remade him up into something horrendous, tattered remains of who he was desperately hanging on by threads. Bucky did pay a steep price, one of the steepest.

Steve curls around him as much as he can because he needs to, and Bucky curls just as much around him.

\--

They look up some time later when a guard from their earlier escort stops at the doorway. Steve remembers his braided black hair and tail. He does something out of view of the doorway and the red shimmer shifts back to green.

“Come,” he orders.

They get up and follow.

They’re escorted back to the throne room where the Emperor is sat, along with the Empress, surrounded by a cluster of twelve of varying ages, skin colors, ethnicities, dark scale colors. 

All their eyes shift to them. A few of them whisper. Steve and Bucky wait.

“We have come to a decision,” the Emperor says. The voices quiet. Steve now knows why his voice sends a little shudder down his insides. It’s like Bucky’s. The Emperor stares down at them. “You, Beucharion, will return to the humans with our elite guard’s captain to negotiate an understanding with the humans.” His eyes shift to the head guard that came to get them with a nod. The guard with the black hair and tail nods back. “You understand your task?”

“I do,” the guard returns.

Steve glances over and realizes Bucky’s watching them closely.

“Then go,” the Emperor returns, “Do not return until you are finished.”

The guard nods and turns towards them, but Bucky’s expression has already evened out.

\--

The city is quiet on their way out, but not empty. Everyone is still, watching them, even the children holding their parent’s hands. It makes Steve feel like a warbringer, even though that’s what they’re trying to prevent, but he can’t help the feeling like the city is suddenly a ghost town.

The guard traveling with them says nothing, and neither does Bucky, but at least Bucky’s holding Steve’s hand.

They continue silently out of the city, past the border that makes the city disappear from Steve’s periphery and turn into open ocean again. They’re silent for another while, until Steve decides to break it, because merperson now or not, Steve still has the manners his ma taught him.

“My name is Steve,” he says. Two sets of eyes dart to him. “What’s yours?”

 _Silence_.

Bucky gives his hand a little squeeze. “Orion,” Bucky answers for him.

Steve blinks at him while- Orion, tenses slightly.

“Interesting name,” Steve tries, looking back to Orion.

“It suits him,” Bucky replies quietly, dryly. Orion’s eyebrows lower but he doesn’t say anything, and the silence gets...stilted, again.

“You two know each other?” Steve hazards. Bucky squeezes his hand again, eyes ahead. That’s a yes, then.

“Knew,” Bucky corrects, “We grew up together.”

Orion still doesn’t say anything, but his expression could hold storm clouds.

They stop for the night in an unoccupied cave. Bucky and Orion seem to have a staring contest over sleeping arrangements at the mouth of it before putting their backs to opposite walls and curling up, warily keeping an eye on the other out of the corner of their eyes. It reminds Steve of two cats who either don’t like having the other in their space or in their territory. It’s probably both.

Steve swims over and settles next to Bucky, and tries to ignore Orion’s eyes on him, roving over his tail. He can’t help the end twitching a little.

At some point, when he’s dozing in the night, Orion finally speaks, and Steve draws closer to the surface of _awake_ to listen where his head’s resting on Bucky’s shoulder.

“Was it worth it?” Orion asks quietly, “That arm, those scars, that half-breed creature at your side.”

It’s quiet for a moment, then-

“His name is Steve,” Bucky says, low and deadly quiet, “Call him that again and I’ll tear your tongue out.”

 _Quiet_.

“And yes. What I chose.”

 _Quiet_. 

It feels different this time. Steve wishes he could open his eyes.

“You were to rule, Beucharion,” Orion says firmly.

“I found something else, Orion,” Bucky replies, voice like steel.

 _Quiet_.

Steve can picture them glaring at each other like kids, neither budging.

“That human caused-” Orion starts.

“He died saving the world, and not just his own,” Bucky cuts him off.

_**Quiet.** _

“I did not choose poorly, even if others did.”

Bucky’s arm tightens around Steve’s waist and Steve tries not to swallow.

“I chose the best to ever live among them. I paid a price I live with, and I wake to the consequences, and then Steve’s unwavering love and loyalty. What was your reward?”

 _Quiet_.

Bucky’s arm gives Steve another, gentle squeeze. Bucky knows he’s awake. 

Neither of them speak again for the rest of the night.

\--

They swim across a humpback whale pod on their way back to the submarine the next day. Orion doesn’t seem overly impressed by it, but Bucky takes Steve’s hand with a softer look in his eyes, webbing between their fingers gently rubbing together while the whale’s songs vibrate through Steve’s bones. It’s like an earthquake through the water of long, varying notes. The distant sunrays highlight the whale’s features as they slowly twist and turn and move through the blue of the ocean, and it is one of the most beautiful things Steve has ever seen.

\--

The submarine is about where they left it. They drift through to the airlock room and slowly sink to the floor as the water drains. The locks click in the metal door ahead and Barton walks through to give them all towels.

Steve pats himself down with it as much as he can and then covers himself with it when he’s got legs again, until Barton hands him a pair of black sweat pants. It’s then that Steve notices Orion’s armor has disappeared, all save the intricate, platinum metal in writhing designs up his forearms.

Orion doesn’t look at him, only at Barton, and Bucky says nothing, so Steve moves it to the back of his mind for now.

“See you brought a guest,” Barton says, breaking the silence. His expression is open, but his tone is a little more serious than Steve’s used to hearing from him.

“This is Orion, Captain of the Emperor’s guard,” Bucky introduces since Orion is a wall of silence, onyx eyes like laser points.

“Oh. Cool. I’m Clint,” Clint replies with a polite smile.

….aaand Orion continues being that wall.

“Follow me,” Barton says, undeterred, turning to lead the way without a hitch. 

Steve’s surprised at how smoothly Orion moves, gliding over the floor like he does through the water. Steve looks over to Bucky at that, but Bucky’s watching Orion closely with that look he had when they were scouting out Hydra bases. Steve keeps that thought on the backburner with the other and follows them both out.

\--

Steve wanders the submarine while Bucky talks with Hill and Orion about ‘Official Matters’. Apparently it’s going to take a few days to get back to the states from Africa. Steve knew the waters were warmer, but he didn’t realize that’s where they were. It excites him that he got to go there, but also makes him wonder what Bucky was doing in New York when he apparently lived a good distance away from it.

Whatever the reason, Orion had refused to talk with Steve, Natasha, or Clint in the room, so, Steve wanders. It feels strange to be on two feet again. They feel...clunky, heavy, harder to maneuver even though he knows he’s moved them pretty well before. It’s like being a stumbling trainee under Peggy’s knowledgeable guidance all over again. The more he experiences the dichotomy between Human Things and Merperson Things, the more he thinks it’s a wonder Bucky likes him at all, enough to choose to fight in a war he didn’t believe in or really understand anything about.

Steve finds the cafeteria (empty) and ventures in, opening doors and cupboards until he finds some food, then stares at it and tries not to make a face while he tries to remember any reason why he might have ever liked something like jello. It’s squishy, strange, and has a mind of its own...which kind of describes what he’s been eating for the past while, but at least most of that wasn’t so... _wiggly_ , and hard to balance on a spoon.

“See you’ve found your next archnemesis,” Natasha’s voices draws his eyes away from the squiggly blue chaos on his spoon. She comes over and takes the seat opposite him and tears open a bag of nuts and dried fruit. Steve can’t smell it as good as he could before turning into a merperson, but these days his senses all seem to work one hundred percent underwater.

“It’s about as complicated as a fish,” he sighs, “But twice as squirmy.”

Her lips twitch and she pops a few nuts and fruit into her mouth. “That’s how you’ve spent the last whole year?”

Steve blinks. It’s been a full year? He didn’t think they’d lapped through Christmas yet. “I didn’t realize it’s been that long,” he admits, “Bucky and I migrated to stick to warmer waters. We’ve both had enough cold for two lifetimes.”

Natasha nods, eyes on him. “Well, your replacement’s been shaping up. He’s taken to the job fairly quickly.”

Steve perks up at that. “Who is it?”

“Samuel Thomas Wilson,” Natasha answers like she’s reading it off a file, “Clint knew him from a local V.A. He flies. Stark’s had to deal with sharing airspace.” Her lips curl.

Steve’s do, too. “I can imagine.” He sits back a little. “A flying Captain America,” he says, picturing it.

“A black, flying Captain America,” Natasha corrects with a small smirk, “You would’ve loved Hydra’s faces when he flew in and kicked them in the heads.”

Steve laughs, throwing his head back. He _would have_.

“He’s been wanting to meet you,” she adds casually.

Steve smiles. “We’ll see what happens.”

She hums noncommittally, smiling a little secretly down at her food and then up at him.

Steve’s missed her, and he’s...touched, to realize she’s missed him too.

“So,” she says after a minute, more seriously, “What do you know about Orion?”

Steve shrugs, nudging his jello cup to the side on the table. “He’s captain of the Emperor’s elite guards of the city, grew up with Bucky, doesn’t seem to like me much. Though if he blames me for what happened to Bucky...I don’t blame him.”

Natasha glances away in thought. “The Emperor,” she says, looking back, “What’s your read on him?”

Steve frowns a little, thinking. “He reminds me of Bucky, in some ways,” he starts slowly, “Calculated, calm, steady, but with something underneath it all that feels...unfathomable, dangerous. Bucky’s been keeping an eye on Orion,” he adds quietly.

Natasha hums softly in the affirmative, brows drawn together a bit. She doesn’t say anything else, but Steve can practically hear her mind working.

She leaves after a little bit, and Steve wanders back to the room he left Bucky in, sitting outside with his back to the wall and his knees familiarly pulled up, missing his tail while he waits. He finds himself missing the water too, the longer he’s out of it. It’s like a longing in his chest to see the sun set, just there and gently pulling. He can only imagine what it must’ve been like for Bucky to be away from it for so long, conditioned to fear it when he saw it, feel excruciating pain when he touched it. Where he was meant to be, _right there_ , but forced just out of reach by people full of agendas and hate.

It’s another while before the doors finally slide open and Steve looks up, sees Hill and Orion come out first, her eyes darting down to him briefly as she leads the way and Orion’s staying straight ahead. Bucky’s slant down and he pauses when their eyes meet, and Steve stands. He follows when Bucky starts walking again, reaches over to brush the backs of their hands together and smiles when Bucky takes his.

They follows as Hill escorts Orion ot the living quarters section of the submarine, standing off to the side to let him pick his room.

Steve watches him steadily move down the length of hall and glances over at Bucky, who’s still watching Orion closely. Steve doesn’t need to ask why, but he is curious about their past together, wants to ask about it.

Orion picks a room halfway down the hall on the right side, disappearing inside. Hill gives them a nod and goes, apparently satisfied for the time being.

Bucky gently tugs his hand and Steve lets him lead them to the second room on the left, stepping closer. Bucky’s attention finally shifts to him and Bucky tugs him just a little bit closer for a kiss. “You want to be here?” Bucky asks quietly.

“I miss the ocean,” Steve replies, just as quiet. Bucky pulls them flush together and kisses him again, careful of his teeth. He slowly slides a hand down Steve’s side, then around to his ass and down lower to the scar between his cheek and thigh. “I have not let you return this,” Bucky says quieter, eyes on Steve’s.

“I want to,” Steve says, trying to control the sudden swell of _eager_ in his chest, “If you’ll let me.” Bucky’s claimed him as a soulmate, for all intents and purposes, did it back during the war, but Steve never had the teeth to return it, make a mark of his own.

Bucky watches him for a minute, then steps around him to close the room door. He sheds his pants and Steve’s heartbeat picks up. Bucky turns back around and holds his arms out a little, bare for Steve to see. “Anywhere you want.”

Steve slowly steps up close, looking over Bucky’s skin, trying to decide. He’s covered in scars already, light as they are, but this one will be...different.

He reaches over after after a minute, gently lifts Bucky’s right forearm and glances up to make sure. Bucky nods, so Steve parts his lips and sinks his teeth into Bucky’s skin, blood welling up and filling his mouth. It tastes like copper and...something else he can’t name, but it makes him think of the glowing lights in the ocean at night. He pulls his teeth out and licks his lips, gently licking up the blood on Bucky’s arm and around the bite before looking up at him. “You have scars,” Steve starts quietly, “But you’ll see this one first and most and...think of something good, I hope.”

Bucky reaches up, pulls him in with a hand cradling Steve’s jaw and kisses him breathless. “I only needed to see you,” Bucky says, barely moving away, “But now our bond is complete. Part of you is forever with me, body and soul.”

Steve smiles, teasing very, very gently, “Romantic. I like it.”

Bucky smirks, small and sharp, but it softens to a look so warm and sweet and full of love the backs of Steve’s eyes sting.

“I love you forever, Beucharion,” he says quietly.

“And I you, Steven,” Beucharion returns softly, almost a wisp of sound. They meet in the middle for the next kiss, arms and hands wrapping around each other and gripping, holding, and Steve’s bare toes curl against the smooth metal floor.

\-----

[ Bathtub Scene ]

Steve stretches out his tail, breathing out a quiet sigh as he curls and uncurls it, end fins flapping gently against the water’s surface before they drift down. He stretches his spine a bit, leaning on his arms crossed over the edge of the wide bath while his eyes close, spine popping quietly. He lets out another sigh, melting against the porcelain. They still have another two days until they reach New York. Even with being wary of Orion, it seemed like a good enough time to relax, just a little bit.

The water ripples against his ribcage and Steve looks back over his shoulder, watches Bucky step down into the cool water behind him and sink down to his shoulders, fresh bite mark disappearing being low the surface, while his head drops back and his eyes close. Steve’s chest warms at the reminder, lips curling up while he looks to his left and watches Bucky’s pale legs elongate into familiar blue, stretching out beneath the water and giving a low wave with a gentle ripple while his end fins uncurl in a long, single roll.

The bath is big and the ‘tub’ is huge, big enough to fit them both, tails and all, with a few feet to spare. It looks like it was made for a group of people to share all at once, and the row of shower heads on the opposite end of the room only reinforce the idea. It’s all white with silver metal knobs and faucets and support rails, sparkling clean like it’s never once been used.

Steve rolls and puts his back to the side of the tub with a little wave and coil of his tail, facing Bucky. Bucky lowers his head back forward and looks across at him, sinking down further until his chin touches the water. He smirks a little and sinks the rest of the way, top of his head disappearing below the pool. Steve chuckles quietly, jolting with a laugh that echoes off the walls when fingers dance up his sides, tail whipping up with a few splashes. Bucky’s head comes back up, stopping with his eyes just above the water, the lower, blue, spine fins rising up out of it like a shark behind him and the end of his tail lashing playfully.

Steve sinks down while blowing out his breath, pulling in water once his nose is below the surface. His eyes squeeze shut at the sensation and he chokes and coughs, trying hard not to think of the Valkyrie. The drowning sensation doesn’t hit him as hard this time, but he still doesn’t like it, a hard shiver running up the length of his tail and spine. But it’s over after a minute, and then he can breathe, sinking the rest of the way under in time with Bucky. Steve rolls and hums quietly into the kiss when Bucky’s lips find his, hands coming up to hold onto his biceps while their bodies brush together. Bucky’s hand cups his cheek as he pulls back and Steve opens his eyes, their hair drifting lazily about them, dark brown mixing with dark gold.

“Better?” Bucky asks quietly.

“Yes,” Steve sighs out, relaxing under him. 

He leans up for another kiss, likes the way their bodies slide together when they move towards each other. It’s different from when they were both human, the scales smooth enough to slide over each other but their edges still giving texture that ripples up from each point of contact. And he likes the way they can coil around one another, the blue and white ribbon of their tails winding together to help pull their hips flush together. 

Steve groans quietly into the kiss and Bucky reaches over, grabs the edge of the tub and pulls them closer to it so he can press Steve against it and grind down, giving more contact. It rubs the slits where their cocks reside (which Steve _finally_ got used to around the three month mark), and after a few minutes, Steve’s hard enough that his cock slips out, rubbing against the butter soft skin of Bucky’s. Steve moans louder, the melodic sound bouncing back at them from the tub walls, and grips Bucky’s shoulder and waist, rolling his body to meet Bucky’s every time, two waves coming together while the water rocks gently above their heads, past Bucky’s hair drifting like seaweed swaying in the currents.

Bucky grinds harder and Steve rolls his hips up faster to meet him, feels sharp teeth brush his lips and parts his own, chasing Bucky’s tongue when it brushes his own. They don’t do this often, they never have, but it feels-

Steve comes with a sharp, melodic moan, the sound weaving with Bucky’s smooth groan while his nails pierce through Bucky’s skin, and he flushes a little when he opens his eyes and strings of white floating through the water (he’s not sure he’ll ever get used to _that_ ). He winds his tail tighter around Bucky’s and then they both melt, shuddering faintly while they drift through the aftershocks. Steve tastes Bucky’s blood on the water, breathes it in, and then curves around out from under him, lower fins skimming above the surface while he rounds to Bucky’s side, pressing gentle kisses to the puncture marks. He kicks forward with his tail and pushes himself over to do the same with the ones on Bucky’s shoulder, humming a soft, echoing sound while his fins brush the bottom of the tub. 

Bucky twists around and reaches up, one hand touching his cheek while the other combs his drifting hair back from his face, and leans up to kiss him, sucking gently at his lower lip with a responding hum, a little higher than Steve’s own and a little jagged, but still soft and sweet to Steve’s ears.

They both pull themselves up over the edge of the tub after a few more minutes, tails whipping through the water and splashing it out along the floor while they drag themselves out over the textured floor. Steve grits his teeth a little when his nails hit the floor too hard and the collision jolts up the bones in his hand, but keeps pulling himself up until the last of his fins are out of the water, rolling onto his rear and looking down, propped up on his elbows. He looks over when Bucky comes to a stop next to him, a few bangs hanging wet down their faces and shoulders brushing. The scarce blue scales sporadically along Bucky’s pale skin glimmer with his tail under the false lights, sharp and vibrant in a way that almost hurts Steve’s eyes. He looks up to Bucky’s face and finds Bucky looking down at the both of them spread out across the floor, so Steve looks too.

“You're beautiful,” Bucky says quietly. It still sounds loud in the silence of the bathroom.

Steve looks down at his tail, the blue shimmer over the glimmering white scales. He’d been amazed by it at first, but then thought it seemed a little...washed out. Not the tail itself, but the color. White is a blank color, isn’t it? The irony wasn’t lost on him that it’s like drawing paper. He’s doodled in the sands when the ocean was calm, but hasn’t drawn on paper in a long time. Maybe he could find something that he could draw on his tail with.

He looks over at Bucky’s, filled with rich colors, blues and greens, like a blue peacock, traces the lighter shades of the scars with his eyes that mark where Hydra took pieces of him. Steve rolls his tail up a little and flops it over with a faint grunt, relaxing and tilting his head into Bucky’s when he gets them overlayed. “You are,” he counters with a little smile. They’ve done this before, played this game that has no end. Steve will always love Bucky’s tail, even though Bucky thinks the damage is an ugly reminder, and Bucky loves Steve’s, even though Steve thinks he doesn’t measure up to the depth a true merperson’s has.

Bucky turns his head and noses gently at his cheek, and Steve tilts his head up for a kiss, waiting for his tail to dry.

\-----

The rest of the trip to land is quiet and uneventful. It’s four days of holding hands, sleeping curled around each other like they’re still in the ocean, and talking with Nat and Clint and occasionally Hill. Steve even sees Orion out sometimes, either eating or reading in the library. He doesn’t talk to any of them and Bucky doesn’t engage him.

When they finally dock, Steve’s surprised to find New York City’s skyline against the backdrop of stars in the night.

“Quinjet’s this way,” Hill says, turning and heading down the private pier, and they all follow.

They’re lead off the pier right into the back of a black SUV with black windows. Steve can’t see anything, the divider between their seats and the front isolates them, and even with his hearing, he can’t hear anything beyond the truck, either. The truck drives so smoothly, he can barely even feel it whenever they turn.

Orion sits opposite him and Bucky, staring at nothing in particular, and Steve yearns to...talk to him, about Bucky, their circumstances, the Emperor. But Steve’s pretty sure he won’t talk, especially not in an isolated vehicle that belongs to people he perceives as threats, so Steve pushes the words bubbling up in his chest back down.

He manages it for all of five minutes.

“Do you know Namor?” he blurts.

Orion’s eyes shift sharply to him.

Steve’s not sure how long they’ll be traveling, but he doesn’t doubt Orion will have any problem cutting their conversation short (if he even talks for that long, if he even talks at all). Bucky doesn’t move at Steve’s side, but his body heat is a welcome comfort.

“What do you know of the ruler of Atlantis?” Orion demands.

“We fought together during the war,” Steve jumps to answer. He _spoke_. “We’re friends.”

Orion’s eyes narrow a fraction. “‘Friends’?”

“Yeah,” Steve returns, “He’s a little hard to get to know at first, but he’s a good comrade, a good friend.” Steve doesn’t wither under the full force of Orion’s stare, but it is impressive. Steve’s mostly just surprised he has Orion’s full attention.

“‘Comrade’,” Orion says, a faint hint of dubiousness in his tone.

Bucky snorts quietly, which draws both their gazes. “We all fought together in World War II as part of a covert ops group when the Commandos weren’t the right fit,” he fills in, still quiet, “I never expected the King of Atlantis to be such a pain in the ass.”

Orion’s eyes widen a little and then narrow and Steve bites the inside of his cheek hard, trying to hold down a chuckle like his life depends on it. Orion starts looking righteously outraged so Steve quickly tries to redirect.

“That’s just how they talk to each other,” he explains. Orion’s eyes shift back to him and Steve shrugs. “Insults are their first language.”

Bucky snorts again quietly and Steve looks over to see his tiny smile, which brings up one of his own.

“The emperor would have your head,” Orion scolds, low and sharp.

Bucky raises an eyebrow because really, he’s already exiled and never to return on pain of execution. Orion seems to realize his flawed wording and glares at Bucky, then at one of the blacked out windows. He doesn’t voluntarily say anything else, but Steve still wants to try, to get to know this person who knew Bucky before he did, who grew up with him until Bucky finished doing that with Steve.

“What was Bucky like as a kid?” Steve tries. Bucky shifts next to him and Orion’s brow furrows a little, eyes still focused on the window. “I met him when I was thirteen, but I don’t know what he was like before then.”

“Your attempts to lure me into conversation or ‘connect’ are futile,” Orion says slowly, cutting a sharp glare over at him.

Steve watches him for a few moments. “I just want to get to know you,” he says honestly, “I can’t imagine you just stopped being important to Bucky. He never stopped being important to me.”

“And yet you lead him to _ruin_ ,” Orion says scathingly. 

Steve sits back a little while Bucky stiffens at his side. “I didn’t-”

“Steve-” Bucky starts firmly.

“I know all about Captain America,” Orion cuts them both off, “Your ‘great sacrifice’. It matters not to me if humans die.”

“So you’d rather he’d saved me and let them burn?” Bucky demands as he sits forward a little.

Orion’s glare shifts to him. “Better millions of humans than one of our own, even if you _are_ an exile.”

“Well that’s not what Steve _did_ ,” Bucky cuts back.

“You would die for them?” Orion demands.

Bucky’s glare sharpens. “I would die for _him_.”

Steve looks at Bucky while Orion straightens.

“You would serve him as if he were your king?” Orion asks, dangerously low and quiet, “Have you no depth to your _shame?_ ”

Bucky actually _growls_. “ _You’re not hearing me_.”

Orion’s brow draws lower, gearing up for an offensive.

“Steve chose to save _millions_. You may think they’re worthless, and I may hate every last one of’em, but he gave his life, his future, because it was the _right thing to do_. He’s _worth_ dying for,” Bucky growls out.

Orion watches him closely, back stiff and fingers curled into fists. “Even more than your king?” he asks, low.

“ _Yes_ ,” Bucky growls back without hesitation.

Orion glances briefly to Steve after a moment before glaring back over at the window.

Bucky takes Steve’s hand, lacing their fingers together and gripping it. “I will always hate them,” he says, low and quiet, like Steve could possibly hate _him_ for it. Bucky looks up from their hands. “But what you did, the burden you bear, because I know you would do it again, even if I never want you to, that is not something only a human knows. Whether anyone else can see it or not, you are one of the few, truly good things in this world, and I would follow you down this time, if you had to make that leap again.”

Steve stares at him, heart beating hard in his chest. “Buck…”

Bucky holds his stare, gripping his hand firmly, and Steve closes his mouth, presses his lips in a firm line. He respects Bucky too much to argue his choice, his words, even if, if the time came, he’d do whatever he could to make sure Bucky lived.

So right now, Steve does the only thing he really can do, which is grip Bucky’s hand and hold his gaze, as heavy and light as it makes his chest feel. He could help it, but he doesn’t want to, so he leans in and Bucky meets him for a kiss, a promise, a declaration all over again, resolve made new.

He feels eyes on them, knows Orion is probably looking, and some part of Steve hopes he’ll understand, someday. That Bucky is good, deserving of living and being loved, that there are few people who feel as deeply as Beucharion, and that that is not wrong or bad, and only ever fuels Steve’s love, and hope.

They sit quietly for the next while. Steve ends up leaning against Bucky, hands still held between them and eyes closed. The truck eventually slows to a barely felt stop and they all sit up, alert (except Orion, who has been alert the whole time). The back door opens and they’re greeted with Hill’s face. She steps back with, “Gentlemen, if you’ll follow me.”

They all climb out one at a time and stretch their legs, looking around.

It’s a blank, cement room with an equally blank, cement hallway straight ahead, sections of light behind thick glass up in the ceiling, nine feet up.

Hill starts walking, rubber soles of her boots quiet on the cement floor, and they all follow while the driver stays behind.

The place is a maze. Steve can’t hear anything beyond the walls, has to assume they’re either very thick or they’re underground, or both. He keeps pace with Bucky, holding hands, Orion ahead on his right, and glances around while they walk, looking closely for any markers and memorizing their path. They pass five intersecting hallways and make three turns to end up at a steel door. 

Hill steps forward and press her thumb to a scanpad, a small square of the wall sliding away for her to scan her eye. The thumb scanner flashes green and the door slides open, and they all follow her inside.

“Gentlemen,” she says again, coming to a stop and turning, gesturing ahead with an arm. There’s a round table in the center of the gray room, already seating four hologrammed people, five chairs remaining. Fury approaches from where he was standing next to one.

“Glad you could make it,” he says, focusing in on Orion after a glance over, “I’m Nicholas Fury, Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. These are the members of the World Security Council.” He turns and gestures at them from left to right. “Councilman Singh,” a nod, “Councilman Yen,” a nod, “Councilwoman Hawley,” another nod, “and Councilman Rockwell,” the incline of a white haired head. “Please, join us,” Fury says, gesturing to the table and then walking over to take a seat. Steve, Bucky, and Orion follow while Hill exits the room.

“I am Orion, of Alexandria,” Orion states formally.

“ _Not Atlantis?_ ” Councilman Rockwell asks archly.

“ _Alexandria? As in the great, lost library Alexandria?_ ” Councilwoman Hawley asks.

Orion says nothing.

“ _Have you somehow managed to preserve the knowledge?_ ” Councilman Yen asks.

Orion barely glances to him. “I am here to state my Emperor’s terms.”

They all straighten.

“You will remove your presence from the ocean and leave us be.”

All of the councilmen clamor at once while Councilwoman Hawley and Fury observe. Bucky and Steve watch them all, Bucky’s knee brushing Steve’s. The words eventually come out in some semblance of order:

“ _That’s absurd.”_

_“Impossible.”_

_“I have patrolling ships on my sovereign borders_.”

Steve’s eyes dart between them.

“ _Will you not work with us?_ ” Councilwoman Hawley finally speaks.

“To what end?” Orion returns, and they quiet, “You fight and slaughter and pillage and burn. You would weaponize us as you have your own to spread your inane disputes.”

“ _Now look here-”_

_“It’s not that simple-”_

_“Do you share this view?_ ” Councilwoman Hawley cuts in, eyes on Bucky.

Bucky stares back, still. Steve watches him and Orion glances over.

“We have battle,” Bucky starts slowly, decisively, picking his words, “But I did not know what war was until your World War II. You fight for resources you have in abundance, for land that none truly own, because you don’t like something, you kill your own.” He pauses and reaches down to pull his shirt up and off. A few of the council shift. “I had never seen nor known cruelty such as this until I came here. It does not exist where I come from, and war is a human tale of terror and tragedy.”

“ _Just because some Nazi scientists went too far, doesn’t mean they represent the rest of us_ ,” Councilman Rockwell says.

Bucky’s eyes shift over. “German, Russian, American. Do you forget the Nazis are made up of more than one nationality?” Seventy years of corruption speaks volumes.”

There’s silence at that, and Steve finds Bucky’s hand under the table, grips it.

“ _Captain Rogers?_ ” Councilwoman Hawley asks, all eyes shifting to him, “Do you agree?”

Steve takes a breath. “I’ve always believed in the good in people and I’ve seen it, even in the darkest places. I think…” he trails off, brow furrowing while he tries to figure out how to word it. “I think,” he continues stronger, “There is no one right opinion, but that while we are not the only ones with our flaws, humans have made a great deal of them, and part of it...no, maybe near all of it, is because of us trying to push our wills on others. We have to get over ourselves, to understand that we are not gods, even the gods aren’t exactly gods, and we have to learn to respect that not everything will go our way, that we don’t always have the right or moral high ground to make it. Who are we? To force ourselves and our wills on anyone, especially those who very clearly state that they don’t want it?”

 _Silence_.

The council look between themselves while Fury watches them. Steve looks over to find Orion staring at him, and then Bucky squeezes his hand and Steve looks over to him. Steve squeezes his hand back, lips twitching faintly at the look in Bucky’s eyes.

The council turn their attention back to them, then Orion in particular.

“ _Is your society a threat? Are your people a threat to ours?_ ” Councilman Singh asks.

“That is a broad question,” Orion returns, watching them all.

“ _Let us rephrase_ ,” Councilman Yen says, “ _Do you intend to wage war on humanity at any point? And do you have the weaponry capable of doing so?_ ”

“That depends on your trespass, and yes,” Orion answers.

“ _So you are threatening us to bend to your will_ ,” Councilman Rockwell says.

Orion shifts his gaze. “I am stating facts and terms and their consequences. What you do is your business.”

The council look to each other again. “ _We must convene_ ,” Councilwoman Hawley says. The holograms flicker out and then it’s just the four of them at the table.

 _This isn’t going well_ , Steve thinks, and by the grim look on Fury’s and Bucky’s faces, they seem to agree. He’s never been one for politics, but he can tell things are already off to a rocky start. He can understand Orion not wanting to compromise, especially if those were the Emperor’s orders, but… He winces a little when he tries worrying the inside of his cheek, licking over the blood from his sharp teeth.

He’s not sure how to help, if he can help.


End file.
